Wolf Spider
by Huhn
Summary: All Marina ever wanted was to live her life all by herself. But after one fateful evening in the final days of the war, she must now carry someone with her wherever she goes...
1. One

**One **

When Marina returned to the cabin she made sure to put her rifle away first. She didn't want to damage it in her anger after all. Once she had safely returned it to its usual spot by the bed, she turned and hammered her fist into the wall.

_Damn it!_

Today's hunt had not gone well. Once again, she hadn't killed anything. Not a single little critter.

She had hoped to turn her losing streak around today. When she had set out this morning, she had resolved not to return without having killed _something_. Even just a little hare or squirrel – anything would have done. But by the time mid-afternoon had come around, she still hadn't landed a single shot and was already flagging. Her feet were swollen and her head was swimming, and the last of her stamina had been lost to the baking summer sun. And so she had trudged home, frustrated and humiliated, with her game pouch just as empty as it had been when she had first set out.

Her fist had left a mark in the wall. With a scowl she turned away and crossed the room, nursing her throbbing hand. She shrugged off her pack and left it where it fell, too weary to put it away. Her chair groaned under her weight as she collapsed into it. By now her anger was cooling into despair and tears were welling up in her eyes. She wiped them fiercely with the back of her hand, ashamed at herself for being so emotional.

It had been two weeks since she had eaten something she had killed with her own rifle. In the meantime she had survived on the small creatures caught in the traps she had set around the forest. Between them and the produce of her vegetable patch, she was in no danger of going hungry. Yet she was a predator by nature. Hunting her own food was part of her identity. It depressed her that she seemed no longer capable of it.

It wasn't her fault, she knew. She was a born huntress, as much a part of this forest as the trees that grew here. Having lived in these mountains for so many years, she had come to know the terrain intimately. She knew the lie of the land, the best places to find cover, and the locations of nearly one hundred different burrows dotted around the forest. She knew the animals too. How their instincts would guide them in any given situation and how long they would fight back before they finally gave up the ghost.

But this knowledge alone was not what made her such an excellent huntress. It was her inner discipline that really brought home the meat. Marina had always had complete control over her body. Every little action she made during the hunt – every silent breath, every lightly placed footstep, every sniff of the air, every gentle squeeze of the trigger – was only made at her command. Each had its purpose and not a single one was wasted. And together they combined into one flawless process with the sole objective of killing her prey.

Except now that perfect process had been disrupted. There was no way she could hunt as well as she used to. Not with her belly so swollen with child.

She sat up and traced her hand over her colossal abdomen. It was bigger than it had been even just a week ago and now stuck out so far that she couldn't see her feet. Her body had constantly changed over the past several months and she was never given the chance to get used to one new form before it had evolved into something else. When the bump had first emerged it had only been an inconvenience and she had hunted much as she had before. As the months went by, it had become fuller and rounder, and she had needed to alter her clothing almost weekly to accommodate it. Now it was so large that it drooped off her, like a gathering raindrop about to drop off the edge of a leaf. With such a heavy burden to carry, hunting was far more difficult. She could no longer climb a tree, crawl on her front or even chase after a fleeing target. Where once she had crept silently through the forest like a wolf, now she could only waddle along like duck.

Her ungainly form wasn't her only problem. Her body had a whole new chemistry as well. Strange hormones coursed through her veins, affecting her body in a whole range of unpleasant ways. There had been the violent morning sickness of course. Then the bizarre cravings that ambushed her without warning (one day a few months back she had forgone a whole day's hunting to travel to town in order to buy liquorice. She didn't even _like_ liquorice). Even her aim had been thrown off. She found when she was hunting that she had a little less composure, a little less patience, a little less _edge_. It was enough to turn a perfectly lined-up headshot into a miss, and leave Marina cursing as her startled target fled away through the trees.

But the new feelings those chemicals brought were the hardest to bear. Not so long ago, she would have responded to a failed hunt with a gentle admonishment to herself and a resolution to do better next time. Now when it happened, she felt so angry that she had to lash out and damage something. And then, when the anger passed the tears would come.

She wasn't used to crying, had hardly even cried as a child. There hadn't been any point back then – her tears had never held any sway with her father, who had just frowned in disgust, as though she were weak for letting her emotions get the better of her. Now, as she sat there with tears seeping helplessly from her eyes, she understood his feelings. She _felt_ weak and it was _her_ who felt disgusted at herself for being at the mercy of her hormones and this cursed child inside of her. And her frustration would only bring more tears coming, each one a traitor as it streaked down her face.

She hated being pregnant. To her the baby was a parasite, hiding safely inside her while gorging itself on her body's resources and dignity. Often she found herself grasping her belly with both hands, wishing she could rip it out of herself so that her body would be her own again. Yet she knew there was nothing she could do. She would have to wait until her body purged this parasite of its own accord. But even knowing that she would give birth soon did not excite Marina because she knew that this was only the beginning of something far worse

After the birth there would be a baby in her home. A squealing, shitting baby that she would be expected to tend to around the clock. She would have to feed, clean, clothe and protect it, while receiving nothing in return except sleepless nights and soiled nappies. It would greedily occupy every moment of time she had for years to come, right up until it could finally fend for itself.

Marina sighed out loud to her empty cabin. All she had ever wanted was to live a peaceful, lonely life in these mountains, with a simple daily routine, spiced up by the thrill of the hunt. No people or responsibilities, just boundless freedom. It didn't seem like too much to ask for. Yet this child would take that humble existence away from her and demand that she live her life solely for _it_ instead.

Hardly seemed fair. It wasn't as though she had _chosen _to have this baby. She sighed again. Amazing how a single night was all it took to send you on the last path you had ever wanted to tread.

As though sensing her resentment, the baby kicked her. "Stop that," she hissed, swatting her bump angrily.

The kick had jolted her out of her thoughts. She looked outside to assess the light and guessed that there were still a good few hours until dusk. She knew she should put them to good use; perhaps head down to the stream and catch some fish for dinner. Yet all she wanted to do was haul herself into bed and sleep. She refused to let herself, knowing that to do so would be to admit yet another defeat to her heavily pregnant body.

She ran her fingers into her clammy hair and pushed it out of her face. Her sweat had cooled by now and she shivered, feeling cold and filthy. Her washbasin was just in the corner, but even moving that far seemed like a colossal chore. She forced herself to her feet, groaning at the twinge of pain in her back, and stumbled over to it. She retrieved her facecloth, wrung it out and dragged it across her face. The water was cold, but cleansing.

Just then she sensed something. Nothing tangible, just a change in the air. Her ears pricked up and she heard soft footfalls from outside. Someone was coming.

Instantly alert despite her tiredness, she snatched up her rifle and darted to the window. Lifting the curtain just far enough, she checked the approach to the cabin. A slender dark-haired woman with a rifle over one shoulder and a large pack on her back was headed her way. Marina's face curled into a scowl as she recognised her. It was Catherine of course. She was the only visitor she ever received these days.

_Damn it. Why now? _The last thing she felt like was having a guest. She despised company at the best of times, but to have it when she was tired and depressed after an unsuccessful hunt seemed unnecessarily cruel.

Nevertheless she returned her rifle to its position by the bed and opened the door. Catherine gave her a cheery wave as she approached but Marina did not return it.

"Mari! Good to see you!"

"Corporal O'Hara," Marina muttered back as way of greeting.

Catherine made a face. "Oh Mari, you know we're not in the militia any more. Would it really hurt you to call me Cathy? Or Catherine at least?"

Marina didn't respond. This request was predictable part of every visit and she no longer bothered to give it an answer.

She stood aside to let her visitor in. As Catherine dumped her pack by the door with a dramatic _'phew!'_, she trudged to the kitchen area and took down two mugs from the cupboard.

"Oh sit yourself down. I'll make the tea," said Catherine.

Marina obeyed her. She hated being waited on by others, but she was too tired to argue. "Water's out back," she murmured.

"Sure. Back in a tick." Catherine picked up the kettle and headed outside to fill it up from the rain-butt. Marina slumped in her seat and savoured these last few moments alone.

It had only been a week since Catherine had last visited. She had come more and more often, the closer she came to the end of her pregnancy. Marina didn't enjoy these visits, yet felt unable to turn her away, especially since Catherine never came empty handed. The pack she brought with her was always full of supplies – practical things such as metal wire for snares, tools to fix up her cabin with, and mesh to protect her vegetable garden from rabbits. She also brought foodstuffs such as milk, cheese, coffee, and sometimes even a treat like a bar of chocolate or an apple strudel. Marina never accepted these gifts directly, and certainly never thanked her for them. She was too proud for that. But Catherine never took them back with her, so when she left they remained on the table where she had put them. Only after she was gone would Marina start to pick things up and put them away.

It annoyed her that she was reduced to accepting charity, but she had little choice. The nearest town was at the foot of the mountain, and even before she had become pregnant a round trip had taken a whole day. In her current condition, the arduous return journey up the slope would have been nearly impossible, especially with shopping to carry. Because of this, Catherine had become a valuable supply line for anything which the forest itself could not provide her with. The provisions she brought were certainly worth enduring a short visit for.

Catherine returned, having filled up the kettle. The two women waited in silence for the water to boil, then Catherine made the tea and placed two steaming mugs on the table. Marina nodded in thanks and took a sip, shivering in pleasure at its delicious warmth. As annoying as her unannounced visits were, the woman certainly knew how to fix a decent cup of tea.

Catherine took a seat opposite her and placed her hands around her own cup. "So. How have you been?" she asked brightly.

"Fine," Marina replied.

"No problems?"

"No." And that was as much pregnancy talk as Marina ever allowed. To her relief, Catherine no longer asked '_how on Earth did this happen?'_ or, worse still, '_who is the father?'._ By now she knew she wouldn't get an answer to either question.

With that out of the way, the visit settled into its usual routine. Catherine chatted and Marina listened without saying a word. Mostly Catherine would talk about her life at the Sleepy Lakes hospital where she lived with her two adopted sons. She spoke about her work, the lessons she gave and, more than anything else, the two Bielert boys. She would harp on and on about how she was studying hard in her evenings to become a Teaching Meister so that one day she could provide a proper home for them. It seemed odd to Marina that she was supposedly so busy, yet still had time to waste coming out here to visit her, but she never mentioned this.

Catherine would also relay news she had received from the other former Sevens. Today she babbled about a letter she had received from Juno _('Got her first paper published! I'm ever so proud of her!') _and Cherry's recently announced engagement (_'She's rushed into it. I hope she knows what she's doing.')._ As she spoke, Marina looked aimlessly out the window, making no attempt to disguise her lack of interest. Perhaps those people had been war comrades once, but the war was over now and they no longer had a role to play in her life. Catherine didn't take the hint and kept spouting out every tiny little detail, as though she genuinely believed Marina would want to hear them.

There was only so long Catherine could hold a conversation by herself. Normally when she ran out of news she would finish off her tea, thank Marina for her hospitality (what little of it there had been) and be on her way. Today though she remained seated, until the silence became long. She tapped a nail anxiously on the surface of the table, her lower lip clenched between her front teeth. The air was so awkward, that Marina was even tempted to break the silence herself. But eventually Catherine met her eyes again and spoke.

"How far are you along now?" The question wasn't asked as casual small-talk. There was business in her tone.

Marina didn't reply at first. It irked her that Catherine had broken their unspoken truce and brought up the pregnancy again.

"Eight months," she replied cautiously.

"Eight months. Wow." Catherine nodded, impressed. "Then I think it's about high time we discussed what you're planning to do when the baby comes."

Marina flinched. _I should have seen this coming._ She shrugged, as though the question wasn't important. "There's nothing to discuss. When it comes, it comes."

Catherine rebuked her with a look down her nose. "So you have no plan whatsoever."

"I guess not." _And it's none of your business anyway_, she wanted to add.

"I figured as much. In that case I have a proposal for you." Catherine leaned forward on the table, her eyes taking on a conspiratorial glint. "Why don't you come and stay with us at Sleepy Lakes?" When Marina instantly opened her mouth to decline, she carried on. "Look, I _know_ you don't like to be around people. But please. Hear me out before you decide anything."

Marina grimaced to show her feelings on the suggestion, but remained silent as a sign that she would listen. Catherine threaded her fingers together and continued.

"I knew there wasn't long to go, so I had a word with the director before I came. He's agreed to offer you a private room where you can stay while you have the baby."

She raised her eyes, sought out Marina's own. "I'm sure you would like it there Marina. It's a peaceful place, right in the middle of the forest. The doctors have heaps of experience and they're ever so friendly, so you'll be in very good hands. And you'll have your very own room so if you want privacy, all you'll have to do is lock the door."

She separated her hands again and placed them on the table, her case now made. "So," she said. "What do you think, Mari? Will you come?"

Without even thinking, Marina shook her head. Catherine's face fell. "But why ever not?"

Marina didn't respond. In truth, it had been a knee-jerk reaction. No matter how good an offer it was, she wouldn't go to a place where there were people. She knew what people were like. They were selfish, controlling and so damn _noisy._ Every single one that she let into her life stole a little piece of her freedom by demanding attention that she did not want to give to them. That was why she despised their company, and to be around them at the time when she was most helpless of all was not something she could tolerate.

She couldn't explain all that to Catherine and so she remained silent, her mouth a defiant line. The other woman cringed despairingly. "Won't you at least consider it?" she pleaded. "Surely it's better than giving birth all alone!"

Marina shook her head, a strong, decisive motion that presented it as her final answer.

"I see." Catherine picked up her mug, took a calm, considered sip, and placed it back down in front of her. For a moment she stayed like that, hands still on the mug, eyes closed as though deep in thought. Then suddenly she shook her head with new resolution.

"No. That will not be acceptable."

_Not acceptable?_ Marina clenched her teeth indignantly. "What do you mean 'not..."

"Be quiet and listen to me," said Catherine. "You're can't give birth here in the mountains all by yourself. It would be dangerous, both for you and the baby. Tell me, do you have any idea of labour is like?"

"No," Marina admitted. "But neither do you."

Catherine's gaze didn't falter. "You forget where I live, Mari. Sleepy Lakes has a very busy maternity wing and I've attended plenty of deliveries since I've been there. Childbirth is a miracle to be sure, but not a very pleasant one. You'll be trying to force a big baby's head out of a tiny little exit." She discreetly pointed downwards. "It takes a lot of pushing and a lot of pain to make that happen. Believe me, it's not something you want to go through alone."

"It won't be a problem," Marina stated. She wasn't exactly sure whether that was true or not, but if it turned out to be then she would deal with it the same way as she did with all her problems. Assess it when it came, then act as necessary, relying on no-one but herself.

Catherine did not look convinced. "It's easy for you to say that now. But you'll think differently when you go into labour. It's a terrifying ordeal even for the bravest of women, and for you to go through with it alone just because you're too proud to accept help is just ridiculous."

She turned her head to the side. "If it were only your own life you were risking then I would let you have your own way. But you owe it to your child to accept the help you need to give birth to it safely."

"I don't owe it a thing!" Marina snapped, raising her voice before she could stop herself. "I've carried it for eight months and it's been nothing but a burden to me! Why should I care what happens to it? All I want is for it to get out of my body and _leave me alone!_"

Her breathing came quick and shallow as she glared at Catherine with all the venom she could muster. This sudden rage had caught her off guard. It was those damned chemicals again, she knew. She would never have shown her anger so openly before.

Her outburst had not fazed Catherine, who remained calm and silent. Marina bowed her head and fought for composure. Horrifically, tears were stinging her eyes again. She forced herself to keep them in, desperate not to show any weakness in front of Catherine.

"I never asked for this," she said, slumping back into her chair. "I don't want this child. I never have."

She wasn't looking at Catherine, but heard her push her chair back and come over. Then she felt her hand, light and gentle on her shoulder. She shrugged it off, but Catherine replaced it insistently and stroked her arm with the comforting tenderness of a mother.

"It doesn't matter whether you want it or not," she whispered. "The fact is that it is coming soon and there is nothing you can do to change that. All you can do is prepare for its arrival. And the best way to do that is to come to Sleepy Lakes. Please Mari. You know I'm right."

Marina turned her head away from her. There was no way she could deny the sense of what Catherine was saying. Yet she couldn't bring herself to give in. The thought of all those people was too much to bear.

"No. I won't come."

Catherine removed her hand with a long suffering sigh. "So there's no convincing you? Fine then. If you won't come then it's time for Plan B."

Marina tensed. "Plan B?"

"Yep." Catherine nodded. "If you won't come to us, then we'll come to you. Oscar and I shall come up to stay with you while the baby is born."

"What!" Marina gasped. "No! You can't!"

Catherine ignored her and continued. "Once you've gone into labour it will be already too late to fetch a midwife from town. But Oscar's been studying medicine for a while now. I'm sure delivering a baby would be a good education for him." She made a show of looking around the cabin as though to appraise it. "Admittedly it will be a little cramped with the three of us under one roof but I'm sure we'll manage. After all we would only be with you until you had found a comfortable routine with the baby. I'm guessing we'll only be here for a month or two."

_A whole month? Or even two? _The thought of sharing her one-room cabin with two guests (and one of them a boy) for that long made Marina light-headed. She would have no privacy at all. And the thought of Oscar – that snivelling runt who had always looked more likely to piss himself than kill an enemy on the battlefield – staring into her most intimate regions while she was in labour and so vulnerable…no, she could never allow that.

"You can forget that idea. I would never let you stay," she growled.

Catherine shrugged. "If you wouldn't let us in the cabin then we would set up a tent outside instead. Might be a little less comfortable but it would do, so long as the weather holds." She gave her a mocking smile. "It would be fun, like a wee camping holiday."

Marina glowered at her. Why was the woman so desperate to meddle in her life? This was her own problem, to solve alone as she always had. Catherine had no business interfering.

For a moment she considered calling her bluff. She knew Catherine and Oscar were both very busy people – Catherine herself had told her as much. Would they really uproot themselves to come all the way up here and wait for her to give birth? Seemed like a lot of trouble to go through, especially just to offer help to someone who didn't even want it. And yet she knew Catherine would do it. She was stubborn like that and not one to make idle threats.

And, Marina realised with horror, there was nothing she could do to stop her.

"So what's it going to be?" Catherine demanded. "You can either take in some unwanted guests and leave your baby's delivery in the hands of a young boy…"

She swept her hands across herself.

"…or you can have a comfortable private room with a lockable door, in a clean hospital with experienced midwives and all the medical expertise you could ever need to bring your baby safely into this world."

She sat back in her chair and folded her arms. "The choice is yours, Mari."

Neither option sounded good. But Marina knew she was trapped. One way or another she would not be giving birth alone. She knew she should have been relieved by that, but instead she was furious that yet another part of her life had been taken out of her hands.

All she could do was choose the lesser of two evils. She ducked her head and spoke, barely loud enough to be heard.

"Fine. You win. I'll come to Sleepy Lakes."

Catherine responded with a single nod, tactful enough not to revel in her victory. "I think you've made the right choice Mari. It will be best for both you and the baby."

"Sure."

"The doctors there are great. They really are. And we'll all do our very best to respect your privacy."

"Whatever." Marina spoke listlessly. She didn't want to give Catherine the satisfaction of pretending to be grateful.

"Right. That's sorted." Catherine clapped her hands. "When I get back to town I'll call home and make sure your room is ready. I'm sure the boys will be happy to hear that you're coming." Then she seemed to think of something and asked, "Is there anyone else you would like me to contact? To let them know that you'll be staying with us?"

Marina saw the hidden question immediately. _Should I let the father know where you are? _"Don't push your luck," she growled.

"Fine, fine," said Catherine, holding her hands up defensively. "I'll be back the day after tomorrow to pick you up. That should be enough time for you to gather you things together and sort out your cabin, shouldn't it?"

"Yes," Marina said shortly, standing up as she spoke. Catherine had got what she had come for. Now she desperately wanted her to leave.

Catherine seemed to sense this and also stood. "Right. I suppose I had better make tracks if I want to get back to town before dark." She shouldered her rifle harness and Marina opened the door to let her out. Before she left Catherine paused and turned to her one last time.

"Mari," she said. Her face softened as she took hold of her hand and squeezed it. "I know you don't like this. But we'll take good care of you, I promise."

Marina didn't reply or even meet her eyes. She was sulking like a spoilt teenager who hadn't gotten her own way, but was too tired and too upset to care.

"Take care. I'll see you soon." Catherine gave her a final smile, bobbed her head and left.

As soon as she was out, Marina shut the door and locked it. Then she turned and slammed her fist into the wall for the second time that day.

_Damn you, O'Hara._

It was bad enough that her pregnancy had stolen her hunting skills and reduced her to a snivelling weakling. Now it was forcing her to go back amongst people as well. People, with their chatter and stench and baffling need to poke their noses into her affairs. They would be all around her, all day, every day, until she had given birth. Worse still, she would be relying on their care. The prospect of giving others so much power over her life both terrified and sickened her.

And it was all for a baby she didn't want. The unfairness of it all made her clench her fist harder. How much more would she be made to suffer for that one awful night?

Another kick came from inside her womb. She placed her hand on the spot where she felt it. Not in the loving manner one would expect from a mother-to-be, but rather as a tense claw, ready to fend off an oncoming enemy.

"I hate you," she whispered. And it was that hatred, rather than hormones, which caused the tears to fall this time.

* * *

**A/N – Many thanks for reading chapter one! I hope you enjoyed it. Just so you know, this story will be reclassified as 'M' from the next chapter, so if you do wish to keep reading you'll have to change the ratings filter to find it. You'll know it's been updated when it suddenly disappears from the front page. :-)**

**Also, as some readers may have already noticed, this fic take place after the events of my other fic – 'A Life Too Many' (which explains why Catherine just so happens to live in a hospital!). You don't have to have read it before this fic, though a few references to it will be cropping up.**

'**til next time! **


	2. Two

**Disclaimer: Valkyria Chronicles is owned by Sega, not me. If I owned it, it would have been 'the Catherine Detachment' instead and Edy & co. would have been replaced with six Catherines.**

**A/N – Hi people, just want to say a huge thank you to everyone who reviewed chapter one. I was really chuffed with the response it got and receiving reviews like that really motivates me to write, so thanks very much!**

**Here's chapter two. It was originally going to be longer but after it hit the 10k mark I decided it would be best to split it into two parts, of which this is the first. Also means that the M rating won't kick in until next time. **

**Please enjoy.**

**Two**

_Marina's biggest mistake in life was being born a girl. Years later she heard that when the midwife had first presented her to her father, he had cursed at the top of his lungs and broken a chair against the wall. He had wanted a son, who he could train to hunt and pass his trade on to. What the hell was he supposed to do with a daughter?_

_For the first twelve years of her life he had ignored her. Since he worked all day and drank all night, she only ever saw him when the family went to church or were sat around the dinner-table. At those times he would never even deign her a glance, let alone speak to her. Why should he? In his eyes she was nothing more than an unwanted extra mouth to feed. _

_Since Papa wasn't interested, it was left to Mama to raise her. She was a waspish woman whose breathtaking beauty was soured by her permanent frown. Any love she had for her daughter came a distant second to her devotion to the Valkyrur. The laws of the Holy Scripture were absolute in the Wulfstan household, at least in the times when Papa wasn't home. As a child of the __Yggdist_ _faith, Marina was expected to be quiet, demure, and above all, obedient. If she ever acted otherwise, she would be punished with the cruel switch that Mama always kept close at hand. _

_There was no question that Marina's inconvenient gender had placed a strain on her parent's relationship. Papa resented Mama for not bearing him a son ('as a dutiful wife would have') and so she resented Marina in turn. As a result she was always on the lookout for reasons to punish her. Marina could do her best to follow all the Scripture's strict rules but there were just so many of them to remember. No matter how hard she tried to follow them all Mama was always able to spot an infraction, even if it was as small as coughing during a prayer. And when she did she would bend her over a chair and thrash her with the switch, each strike leaving a blazing red mark on her bare back. This would always be followed with a stern reminder that unless she was better behaved she would be sent straight to Hell where she would burn forever with all the thieves, murderers and Darcsens. All Marina could do was bow her head, shuffle her feet and mumble apologies for being such a bad little girl. _

_Mama kept her on a close leash throughout her childhood. __She hadn't let her play with other children, believing that they would pass their sinful ways on to her. Neither had she let her attend school. "What would be the point?" she had loudly declared. "Everything she needs to know in life she can learn from the Scripture." Instead she had taught her her letters herself, solely so that she could read the holy texts and take in all of their valuable lessons. By the time she was ten Marina could recite most of them by heart, though she understood barely half of them. _

_When Mama wasn't forcing her to read the Scripture, she would be finding chores around the house for her to do. Her days mostly consisted of peeling vegetables, washing clothes and cleaning the same rooms she had cleaned yesterday and the day before. It really didn't matter what she was doing so long as she was doing _something_. Idleness was a sin, so she was given jobs even if they didn't need to be done. Marina had learned to obey silently. If she so much as opened her mouth to complain, Mama would have her place her hands flat on the table and out would come the switch to administer her punishment._

_The only time Marina was able to escape her mother's watchful gaze was when she was sent off to the store with a list of goods to buy. After the stuffy prison of the cabin it was always wonderful to be outside in the fresh air by herself. Suddenly she didn't have to be so careful of every little thing that she did for fear that Mama would punish her for some minor infringement. She took as much time as she dared with those trips, playing silly little games such as kicking a stone along in front of her or balancing herself on top of a fence and pretending that the street was a rushing river that would drown her if she fell into it. _

_Not only did shopping trips give her an hour of precious freedom, but they also gave her a chance to check out another book from the library. It was the one little rebellion against Mama that she allowed herself. Stories, other than the parables in the holy texts, were seen as sinful in the __Yggdist_ _religion ("Tales of fantasy fill the head with nonsense!" her mother had proclaimed once, which seemed ironic to Marina considering no-one seemed able to prove that the stories in the Holy Scripture were true). Yet Marina found so much pleasure in them that she continued to read them behind her mother's back, smuggling novels into the house underneath the groceries in her basket. If her body was to be forever trapped in drudgery, then at least her mind could be free to embark on great adventures and explore distant lands through the pages of a book. _

_She realised at a young age that she was only ever happy when she was alone. Other people just made her miserable. The townsfolk would turn their heads away from her disdainfully when she passed them in the street. Other children would point at her, then whisper and giggle together in their little groups. But she hated her parents most of all, even though she knew it was evil of her to think that. She longed to be away from the constant scolding of Mama and the silent loathing of Papa. Often when she swept the floor she would daydream and imagine that she had her own little house all to herself where she could lock the door so nobody could get in, and read books by herself to her heart's content._

_For most of her childhood, Marina's days consisted of nothing but chores and prayer. But then one morning when she was twelve, something unexpected had happened. Just as Papa had been leaving to hunt, Mama had shoved her in his direction. __"Take her with you. I'm sick of the sight of her," she had said. _

_Papa had grimaced, not keen on the idea. Nevertheless he jerked his head to indicate that Marina should follow him. He took her to his gun cabinet, selected a small rifle and placed it in her hands. "If you're coming along you might as well be useful," he grunted. _

_From the moment she had taken it from him, Marina had been fascinated with the rifle. It felt so heavy and dangerous to hold. She had run her palm along its smooth wooden handle and hooked her finger around the cold metal of the trigger. This was a tool that could kill. Never before had she held such power in her hands. _

_He had taken her out to the forest. His strides were long at first and Marina struggled to keep up with him. When they reached the tree-line he had slowed down and told her to tread softly. As they crept through the undergrowth together she felt like a daring adventurer, like the kind she had read about in books. Even so often Papa held up his hand to stop her. Then he would take aim at something and fire off a shot. Marina watched him intently, observing the stance and the way he held the rifle steadily with the butt in his shoulder and the stock up against his cheek. _

_For most of the morning she had just followed him around, lugging the sack containing the two grouse he had killed so far. After he had shot a third, Marina meekly asked if she could have a go herself. He squinted with annoyance, but nodded, pointed at a tree and told her to take some practice shots. Marina had eagerly held up the rifle, trying to mimic the stance she had seen him take whenever he was readying to fire. When she pulled the trigger, the crack of the shot exhilarated her even though it missed the tree completely. _

_At Papa's instruction she continued to take shots. He grunted comments on how she should improve her aim and snapped at her when she let her posture slip. When she could finally hit the tree with confidence, he started to walk away, muttering that it was time she tried shooting at a living targets. She scurried after him, eager to prove herself. _

_On that first hunt she hadn't killed anything. Every target that Papa had picked out for her was either too quick, too small or too far away, making the shots too difficult for someone with as little experience as herself. Nevertheless, she had begged to tag along again. The rifle had seduced her and the thought of going back to dusting the mantelpiece and mopping the floors was now too dreary to contemplate. To her delight Papa had agreed, but told her that unless she killed something it would be the last time he took her hunting. _

_That day, she finally scored her first kill. It was a stray doe, wandering vacantly through the trees without a care in the world. When the bullet tore into its side, Marina had gasped, startled that one of her shots had actually hit its target. The wounded animal groaned and collapsed. As they approached it, it made a feeble attempt to crawl away, but it was lung-shot and dying even as it struggled. Marina was amazed, and somewhat horrified, that a single twitch of her finger was all it had taken to reduce this creature to something so pitiful. _

"_Go on. Finish it," Papa had grunted impatiently. _

_His urging cut through her hesitance. She reloaded her rifle, took aim and put a final bullet in its skull. The doe keeled over, dead. The child in her was aghast that she had taken the life of a living creature, yet Papa's approving nod swept away any reservations she had. It was the closest he had ever come to praising her. _

"_I got it!" she exclaimed, unable to contain her excitement. _

"_Course you did. You're a Wulfstan," he replied simply, before turning and walking onwards to continue the hunt. _

_From then on she had hunted with him every day. Mama didn't approve, even though she had been the one to originally suggest that Papa take her with him. The Scripture was very clear that Valkyrur were the only women with the right to wield weapons of any kind. However, she didn't dare defy her husband and so only expressed her disapproval with sucked teeth and cold glares in her daughter's direction. _

_Marina no longer cared what she thought. For the first time in her life Papa was looking at her with pride, perhaps seeing something of the son he had always wanted in her. But even better than his approval was the way she felt about herself now. Mama had always told her she was worthless and having heard it for so many years, she had come to believe it herself. But now she was hunting and putting meat on the table, she felt like she was finally pulling her weight as a useful member of the family. _

_After she had proven herself a capable shot, Papa had allowed her to hunt alone, figuring they would cover more ground if they split up. For the first time Marina knew the thrill of independence. The success or failure of the hunt depended entirely on the choices she made and the shots she took. How she hunted was up to her. Should she move through the forest or stake out an animal run? Follow the stream downhill, or head upslope where the mountain goats roamed? Fire on sight, or creep closer to get a better shot? The seemingly endless possibilities made her giddy. Never before had she enjoyed so much freedom over her actions. If she made the right choices and shot well, she would bring home meat and Papa would smile proudly at her (and, on one wonderful occasion, had even ruffled her hair). If she didn't, she would come home empty-handed and Papa would cuff her round the head, scowling in furious disappointment. But those blows never hurt as much as Mama's switch had, for Marina knew that they only came because she deserved them. She had a responsibility to fulfil and if she failed, it was only right that she be punished. _

_She found that unsuccessful hunts bothered her even more than they did Papa, and she did her utmost to learn from them. When she had gone to bed for the night she would lie awake and analyse each hunt and the mistakes she had made. Perhaps she had chosen the wrong shots, or made too much noise, or had simply been hunting in the wrong place. She made mental notes and remembered them for next time. She soon realised that many of her failures were simply down to the fact that she hadn't shot well enough and so began to practise out back, lining up empty tin cans on the fence to serve as targets. She also borrowed every nature book she could get her hands on, sometimes even ordering them in especially from the larger library in the next town. They contained a wealth of knowledge about the plants and wildlife of the forest which she was able to incorporate into her hunts. _

_For a few seasons this continued. Over time her skills improved dramatically, through a combination of experience, Papa's training and the ruthless perfectionism she had inherited from her mother. Eventually Papa stopped going for dusk hunts at all, delegating the task to her instead. Why should he spend his evenings crawling through bushes, when he could spend them in the pub, safe in the knowledge that his daughter would do a fine job in his place? Besides, word of Marina's talent had spread throughout the village and the pub was a fine place to soak up the glory. __'How great must I be, if even my daughter is a better hunter than the rest of the men in the village,' his sneer seemed to say. As for Marina, she was utterly addicted to the thrill of the hunt, and her father's newfound pride in her was the icing on the cake. Never before in her life had she been so happy. _

_But then once again, something unexpected happened. By the time she was fifteen she had surpassed her father. _

_It crept up on them so slowly that she barely noticed it herself, but as time went on, more and more of the carcasses that they brought home came from Marina's shots. If they hunted together she always seemed to spot targets before him and had often put a bullet in them before he had even seen them. Rumours spread in town that Wulfstan's wonder-child, who he had been so eager to brag about before, had now usurped him as the best hunter in the village._

_Then one day, as they were heading into town to sell the spoils of their latest hunt, they saw a Never Hawk. These were large and graceful birds of prey, with feathers so black that in times past people had mistaken them for devils dancing through the sky in search of victims. As such it was considered a bad omen to see one and the other townsfolk on the street had gone quiet at the sight of it. Papa calmly shrugged the rifle off his shoulder and took a shot at it. He missed as the bird wheeled away at last second. He fired off two more shots, but neither hit their target. The unharmed bird circled overhead as though taunting him. Before Marina knew what she was doing, she had her own rifle out and trained on the bird. It jerked around as it flew away from them, but she was patient and waited for it to settle in the air. Then she saw the shot and instantly pulled the trigger. _

_When the bird dropped out of the sky, she couldn't believe her eyes. She had hit it! Yelping in delight, she ran over to its twitching carcass and saw that the bullet had punched straight through its body. She looked back to Papa, expecting him to praise her for such an excellent shot. To her surprise there was nothing but fury in his face. He bared his teeth, then turned his back on her and strode away. Only later did Marina release the change that had taken place in his mind. Suddenly rather than a helpful hunting partner, she had become a threat to his manhood. _

_The final straw came that evening in the pub. One of the locals, who had seen Marina's shot earlier, had joked that he and his daughter should swap roles – that Marina should be the hunter, and he should doll himself up and find a nice man to marry. Papa had broken a bottle over the man's head and spent the next week in a cell as a result. _

_When he came home after being released, he had locked away Marina's rifle and told her she would never hunt again._

_Naturally Marina had protested. She knew the spoils of her hunts had brought plenty more money into the household – Mama's expensive new church dress was __proof enough of that. But more than that, she had found an identity through hunting. To have that taken from her just because she had become a better shot than her father seemed totally unreasonable. _

_Her protests were met with nothing, but a slap across the face and a lecture about what an ungrateful wretch she was. Then Mama had demanded that she pray for forgiveness for having dared to defy her father. _

_Marina hadn't apologised, but instead worked herself into a cold fury. She had tolerated years under her parent's rule, silently bearing their scorn. But for them to take away the one thing that had mattered to her was something she could not accept. _

_She expressed her resentment through her chores. When she was sweeping the floor she would leave piles of dust in the corners, and when she was washing up __she was so careless with the dishes that they often slipped out of her hand and broke._ _Before then she would have been afraid to do anything less than a perfect job but the rifle had given her the confidence to defy her parents, no matter the punishments that they doled out for her shoddy work. _

_One night she was caned and sent to bed without supper for 'accidentally' knocking Mama's favourite ornament (a glass Valkyria holding her lance aloft) off the shelf. As she tossed around in bed, trying to find a position that wouldn't rub against the throbbing marks on her back, she suddenly realised something. She didn't need her parents any more. She had already proven that she was perfectly capable of hunting for herself. _

_And so, summoning up all her courage, she had run away from home. She decided on a date and in the days leading up to it, she had stockpiled provisions in her room and siphoned money from Papa's wallet - a coin at a time so that he wouldn't notice. Then on the night of her departure she had broken into the gun cabinet to retrieve her precious rifle. She had taken it down with trembling hands and embraced it like a long lost friend. _

_Her first escape was short-lived. Her father had hunted her down and dragged her home again within the space of two hours. She had spent the next two days locked in a cupboard without a single morsel to eat. The second time she tried, she had made it as far as the next town, but he had still caught her by the end of the following day. On her third attempt, she had cut out the soles of his boots before leaving the house. That had given her the head start she needed to escape him for good and start a life where she had her freedom and the spoils of the hunt would be hers and hers alone. _

_

* * *

_

The driver parked the car, then opened Marina's door for her. She shooed him away when he offered her his arm and climbed out by herself. She winced as she straightened, her spine taking the full weight of the baby again.

"Here we are!" Catherine chirped from the other side of the car. "Welcome to Sleepy Lakes, Mari!"

Marina closed the car door and looked up at the sanatorium for the first time. The building itself was new and coloured an untainted beige. It was three storeys high and shaped like an 'L' so that it partly framed the front garden. Sturdy oak trees were dotted around the grounds and on the far side the land sloped down to one of the small lakes for which the facility was named.

"What do you think?" Catherine asked. "Nice, isn't it?"

Marina made a non-committal grunt. At first glance it seemed agreeable. Certainly it was a lot more peaceful than the chaotic field hospitals she had been treated in during the war. Yet it wasn't perfect. There were still people everywhere. Patients stared at her through windows, curious of the new arrival. Hospital staff sat on benches in the garden, eating packed lunches in the glorious June sunshine. And worst of all, there were children playing in the gardens, screaming and laughing as they chased each other around the flower beds.

Her skin crawled. _They're everywhere. So many people. _

Catherine came up by her side, having retrieved Marina's pack from the boot. "Come on then, let's get you settled," she said, touching her arm. Marina nodded and followed her.

Catherine spoke as they approached the main entrance. "The building is divided into two sections – M-block and R-block," she said, gesturing to each side of the 'L'. "M-block is the actual hospital where the patients are treated. You'll be staying in R-Block though. That's the residential area for patients with chronic or terminal illnesses."

"So I'm staying in a hotel where everyone checks out in a body bag," Marina murmured. "Just great."

She had hoped that comment would get a rise out of Catherine and was disappointed when she just carried on talking. "The place has only been open for around a decade and was funded by the legacy of Gallia's former Health Minister, Heinrich Grimm. During the war it was occupied by the Imps, but was liberated around the same time as Bruhl. The boys first came here nearly four years ago. In that winter Emile had contracted pneumonia and nearly died from it, so Oscar brought him here to be treated. The Director agreed to let them stay in return for odd jobs."

Just then the entrance doors flew open and two familiar scruffy boys ran out towards them, grinning like idiots. "Mum! Miss Wulfstan!"

"Speak of the devils," Catherine murmured fondly, opening her arms to receive them. They swooped on her from either side and she kissed them each in turn. Emile then broke off and spread his arms for Marina. To her horror, she realised he was offering her a hug. She took a hasty step backwards.

Emile kept his arms wide for another few seconds, then returned them to his side. If her rejection had offended him, he didn't show it. "Heh, I see you haven't changed a bit Miss Wulfstan," he said cheerfully. "You're still the same as ever. Well except for…you know." He made a circular motion in front of his belly.

"It's very nice to see you," Oscar added politely. "You're looking well." Even as he spoke he couldn't take his eyes off her exposed belly, regarding it with a mixture of fascination and horror.

"It is strange to see you like this though," Emile continued. "I never would have guessed that you would be the first Seven to have a post-war baby." He hesitated a moment before asking. "So just who _is_ the father? We've been dying to know."

"Emi!" Catherine hissed. "I told you not to pester her about that."

"I know, I know. Sorry," Emile said, though he didn't sound the least bit apologetic.

"You will be if you don't behave," Catherine murmured. Then, turning back to Marina, she said, "Now Mari my dear, don't forget that the boys are always at your beck and call. Don't be afraid to make use of them if I'm not around. They'll fetch anything or anyone you need."

"I see. Thank you." Marina nodded to show she understood. She had no intention of asking those annoying whelps for any kind of assistance, but figured that being agreeable was the quickest way to get to her room.

"Yes, we're at your service Miss Wulfstan," said Oscar with a bow.

"Absolutely. But in return I've got a favour to ask you." Emile continued. "You see, we made a bet on whether the baby will be a boy or a girl." He grinned devilishly. "So if you would start thinking girly thoughts for me, I'd really appreciate it!"

Oscar rolled his eyes in disgust. "The baby will already have a gender, Em. It's not like she can change it one way or the other."

"Doesn't hurt to ask, does it? Please Miss Wulfstan, I'd really owe you one!"

Catherine's arm shot out like a snake and clipped Emile's ear. "That's _enough!_" she snapped. "Marina is our guest here and I won't have you bothering her with such nonsense!"

Emile started to protest and Oscar tried to apologise on his brother's behalf. Catherine overruled them both with a sweep of her hand. "Get going, the both of you. Oscar, please take Marina's bag to her room. Emi, go finish your homework."

"But I've already finished it all!" Emile cried.

"Not a problem, I can always give you more. _Advanced Level Mathematics, _page forty-two_,_ questions one through seventeen. Have them done by teatime. Come on, hop to it!"

Emile started to grumble but Oscar stopped him with a shove. "It's great to see you again, Miss Wulfstan," he said hurriedly, grabbing Marina's bag with one hand and dragging his brother away with the other.

As the twins headed back inside, Catherine smiled an apology in her direction. "Sorry about them. They were just really excited to see you."

"It's fine," Marina responded, making no attempt to keep the annoyance out of her voice. "Can I see my room now?" Having spent the best part of the day among groups of people she was desperate to spend some time alone.

"Of course. Right this way." Catherine led her into the reception. She exchanged a greeting with the girl behind the counter, then took her through some double doors, down a green-walled corridor and into a lift. Marina told her she was still perfectly capable of taking the stairs, but Catherine shushed her.

They went up to the second floor. A short way along the landing, Catherine stopped at a seemingly random door and opened it for her.

"Here it is. Come on in, Mari."

Marina stepped in and assessed the room. It was certainly a good size and though the bed was small, it looked comfortable. In the centre of the room were a small table and chair, while to one side was a wardrobe with a chest of drawers next to it. On the far wall there was a large window which looked out over the lawn behind the building. The white walls gave the room a bright, fresh impression, while the vase of chrysanthemums on the table added a splash of colour to it.

"What do you think? Does it meet your approval?" Catherine asked.

Instead of replying, Marina cast her eyes over the room again. Having spent years staring down the scope of a rifle, she had become used to spotting odd little details. For a start, the room was far too large to be a single. On the carpet there were three large, faded rectangles where, Marina guessed, beds had been at one time. Then there was the framed picture on the wall – Catherine standing between her two boys with an arm on each of their shoulders. That was the final piece of evidence she needed to confirm her suspicions.

"This isn't just a private room. It's _your_ room." She stated it as an accusation.

Catherine smiled guilty. "You caught me out. Yes, normally I share this room with the boys. But I figured we could lend it to you for a wee while."

"Why? Were there no other rooms?"

"I'm afraid not. Space is at a premium in a hospital, Mari dear. The only way I could get you a private room was to lend you our own. But it's no big deal," she added hurriedly. "Emile will be staying on the ward with other patients, while Osc and I will be bedding down in the on-call room."

A flicker of annoyance ran through Marina. She didn't like the idea of having displaced someone. "Just remember that you're the one who asked me to come here," she said. She wanted to establish that if Catherine had been kicked out of her room, she only had herself to blame.

Catherine shook her head fondly. "Oh Mari dear, don't be so antagonistic. It's not a big deal for us. You can stay in our room for as long as you wish." She stole a quick glance at her wristwatch. "Right, I have to get ready for work now so I'll leave you to settle in. Is there anything I can get for you before I head off?"

Mariana thought for a moment, then nodded. "Yes. A map of the area."

"A map?" Catherine asked. "Whatever for?"

Marina picked up her rifle and slung it over her shoulder. "I want to be familiar with the layout of the forest for when I hunt this evening."

For a moment Catherine just stared at her, baffled. Then her hand flew to her mouth and she doubled-over laughing. Marina kept her expression fixed in stone. She didn't see what was so funny.

"Oh my! Mari, you're just too precious!" Catherine straightened again and wiped her eyes. "You don't need to hunt! We'll feed you, don't you worry!"

Marina scowled at her. "I don't want to accept any more charity," she stated flatly.

"Don't be silly. It's not charity," Catherine said with a pat on her shoulder. "Just a little helping hand from a friend."

That didn't make Marina feel any better. She wasn't comfortable accepting these favours. It went against her philosophy: _Ask nothing of anyone and don't let anyone ask anything of you._ She felt that in the act of accepting them an obligation to reciprocate was created, even if it wasn't expected by Catherine. Such a debt did not sit well with her.

Catherine coughed to compose herself. "I'm sorry for laughing Mari," she said, a little abashed. "But please, rest assured that we'll take care of you. All you need to do is rest up and prepare yourself for the birth." She paused, then added, "So is there anything else I can get for you? Cup of tea perhaps?"

"No. I just want to be alone," Marina murmured. She didn't care if she was being blunt. After spending the whole day with Catherine (and being laughed at too) she wanted nothing more than to be rid of her.

"Of course. Please make yourself at home," said Catherine. "Send someone to find me if you need anything. I'll come back when it's time for dinner, okay?"

"Okay," Marina said shortly, stepping towards her to shepherd her out.

Once Catherine had closed the door behind her, Marina twisted the key to lock it. She breathed a sigh of relief as she heard the tumblers slot into place. This was the first time that she had been alone all day and the sudden solitude relaxed her like the first drag on a cigarette.

Then the baby spoiled the moment with a solid kick, which reminded her that she wasn't truly alone and never would be again.

_Can't give me a moment to myself, can you?_

Huffing in exasperation, she turned back into the room. Oscar had left her pack at the foot of her bed. She picked it up and placed it on the chair. She couldn't bring herself to unpack. To do so would be to admit that she was here for a long stay. Catherine had told her to make herself at home though, so she set about doing just that.

The first thing she did was take down the picture on the wall. She found it unnerving since it almost felt as though Catherine and the boys were watching her through the smiling faces in the scene. Next she propped her rifle against the wall by her bed, just as it would have been back in her cabin. Then she took out the pistol from her pack, loaded it, made sure the safety was in place and placed it under the pillow. Finally, she retrieved her small skinning knife and slipped it down the side of the bed, between the frame and mattress.

There. Three weapons in place, plus the large hunting knife which she always kept on the sheath of her belt. She felt a lot more comfortable now that the only four friends she needed were close at hand. If the need came, she could be armed in an instant. Perhaps circumstance had made it so that she would be relying on others for the foreseeable future. But there was no way she would ever completely entrust her life completely to someone else.

* * *

The next two weeks passed slowly. The days blended into one long period of nothingness as Marina waited for the baby to be born. She spent most of her time alone in her room, emerging only for meals, walks and the dreaded prenatal examinations.

On the day she had arrived, Catherine had introduced her to her assigned midwife – a Mrs Doris McGeady. She was a plump middle-aged woman with rosy cheeks and grin so wide that it almost circled right around her face. Marina had disliked her on sight.

"So this is the famous Miss Wulfstan! Cathy has told me SO much about you. It's so wonderful to finally meet you in the flesh! Now don't you worry Sweetheart, I know that having your first baby can be a wee bit scary but Doris here is going to take care of you! I've been catching babies for over twenty-five years so you're in very good hands let me assure you..."

And so on. At first Marina had been reluctant to let the midwife examine her. It had been Catherine who had convinced her to let her.

"She needs to check for any complications. If she doesn't know about any nasty surprises in advance, you could be in this hospital for a very long time to come. Or a very short time if it's _really_ nasty."

Her comments had scared Marina into letting the midwife look her over, though she had flinched every time she touched her and felt violated afterwards. Fortunately Doris said she couldn't see any problems with either baby or mother and, all things being well, she should give birth within the next fortnight. Marina hoped so. By now the baby was huge and lugging it around everywhere exhausted her and placed a great strain on her back. Its size meant that it pressed into her bladder, so that she had to visit the bathroom almost every hour. Not only that but it was moving around constantly now, as though it was wrestling with something inside her womb. Doris has simply remarked, "The little dear is just looking forward to being born and seeing the world outside your tummy for the very first time!" It had taken all of Marina's willpower not to clock the woman in the face.

When she wasn't being studied and probed by Mrs McGeady, Marina had little to do and grew bored quickly. Every morning she woke early subconsciously expecting to have jobs to do: water to fetch, traps to check, firewood to gather, prey to hunt. But here at the hospital her needs were all catered for. All she had to do was wait for the baby to pop out of her.

To pass the time she went for walks. Sleepy Lakes was always swarming with people: doctors, nurses, patients, visitors and a seemingly countless number of squealing children. By going for a wander through the surrounding woodland, Marina could escape them for a little while. Usually she walked without a destination in mind, simply enjoying the peace of being alone in nature, where the only company she had were the tall, reassuring trees and the birds that chirped in their upper reaches. If she came to a fork in the trail, she would pick a direction at random. Little choices like those seemed to be the last bit of control she had over her life.

She would have hunted if she could have, to break up the monotony of the days if nothing else. Catherine had strictly forbidden her, saying that it was too dangerous to fire a weapon so close to the hospital. Marina respected Catherine's wishes, fearing she would confiscate her rifle altogether if she didn't. Despite not being able to shoot, she would still study her surroundings with a huntress's eye, noting where tracks and trampled grass revealed animal runs and where fresh droppings suggested that prey was close by. If she spotted a target, she would instinctively freeze and her finger would hook around an imaginary trigger.

When she returned from her walks she would lock herself in her room and read books. There was a library on the top floor of Sleepy Lakes and while it mostly contained dusty old medical journals, there was small section at the end of the room with more accessible reading material. Most of the books there were weathered, having either been donated or left behind by former patients, but they were still perfectly readable. Marina had simply picked a shelf and worked her way along it, replacing the book she had just finished with the next one along without even checking what it was. One day she could be reading a thousand-page epic exploring man's place in the universe, the next she could be reading a throwaway spy story with a dashing hero who thwarted evil geniuses by day and bedded exotic women by night. It certainly gave her variety which was absent in the rest of her life here. She was reminded of the days of her childhood. Now, much like then, books were one of the few pleasures in her life.

One night, she had seen Catherine in the library. Marina had stayed up late finishing _Cogs of_ _the Soul_ (supposedly a classic of Darcsen literature but it had been too pretentious for Marina's taste) and had come there to fetch something new to read. When she saw Catherine sitting at a desk surrounded by heavy books, she immediately ducked back behind a bookshelf to hide. Fortunately, Catherine was far too engrossed in her work and hadn't seen her. Marina held her breath and froze still, the same way she would have if the quarry she had been tracking had shown any signs of suspicion. She peered at her through a gap in the books.

She needn't have worried about being seen since Catherine was oblivious to everything except the book in front of her. Her eyes were set unblinking on its pages, pupils darting back and forth as they took in the knowledge written there. Her trance was only broken when she turned to jot something down in the notebook next to her.

She was studying, Marina knew. Catherine worked full days at Sleepy Lakes, filling in as a nurse, receptionist, secretary, cook or cleaner as was needed. That left her very little time in which to work towards her teaching qualification. She had to use whatever time she could find, even if it meant studying into the early hours. It had just gone midnight. Catherine had been working since dawn and would have to be up again in six hours to help prepare breakfast. Yet she still showed no signs of packing up.

Marina noticed that while Catherine's right hand was working tirelessly to scribble down notes her left was resolutely clasped around her pendant. Marina knew the story behind the trinket. The twins had given it to her for the Feast of All Spirits and it consisted of a silver capsule with a single bullet inside; the idea being that, no matter what happened, she would always have one final shot. It symbolised their love for her and by holding it tight, Catherine would always remember who it was she was working so hard for.

Marina watched her for a few more moments, then slipped away without alerting her. She left the library with the sound of a furious pen behind her.

The next day she walked down to one of the lakes. Its surface was as flat as glass and mockingly peaceful. Marina sat down on the bank and skimmed stones, throwing as hard as she could to disturb the water as much as possible.

_Why does she work so hard for them? How can they possibly be worth it?_

As far as she could see, Catherine got nothing out of caring for the boys. All they did was leach off her hard work, clinging helplessly to her like pathetic piglets suckling at a sow's teats.

What made it all the more bizarre was the fact that she hadn't born those sons – she had chosen to look after them of her own free will. Marina knew that before Catherine had been reunited with the boys she had lived a solitary life very similar to her own. It baffled her that she would choose to leave that behind. Why would one sacrifice boundless freedom to be a slave to other people? It made no sense to her.

Perhaps that was just how things turned out when you let people into your life. Every person in your life wanted a piece of you. They would latch a hook into you, in the form of a demand, a debt, an expectation or an interest. As you spent more time with them they would sink more and more hooks into you, until you were utterly tied down and forced to adapt your life to suit theirs.

This baby inside her would do the same. The hook it had in her was its own helplessness, coupled with her biological obligation to it as its mother. She would have to live her life according to its schedule, tending to its every need and whim as they arose. But after the baby had had its say, what little life would be left for her? The peaceful privacy that she had enjoyed in the mountains would be forever lost to her with a wailing infant always by her side. Her fate was to become a slave to this child, just as Catherine was to the two Bielert boys.

She remembered all too well what it was like to be enslaved by others. As she recalled her parents she clenched her fist, grinding the pebbles together. Even now she still hated them. Mama had dominated every part of her life with her screeched commands and harsh enforcement of the Scripture's laws. She had never let Marina do anything that _she_ wanted to do and the only scraps of freedom she had ever had were the books which she read in secret by the light of the moon through her bedroom window. When Papa had taken her under his wing she thought she had been saved from all that. Yet he had stripped away the very independence he had given her, for no better reason than to salve his wounded pride after she had outdone him as a hunter. No matter how many years went by, she would never forgive them for how they had treated her. For caging her like an animal when she had been born to roam free.

She cast her mind back to the days after she had fled their captivity. That had been a hard time for her. Suddenly she had been completely self-reliant and had to hunt every day if she wanted to eat. Now that she no longer had a place to call home, she had been forced to sleep in doorways, curled up and shivering in the only blanket she had brought with her. She had been able to earn a little money selling game to local storekeepers, though most of this was immediately spent on ammunition so she could hunt again the next day. For most other things, such as medicine and clothes, she had often resorted to stealing. More than a few times she had been caught in the act and soundly beaten for her troubles.

Yes, those days had been tough. But they had also been wonderful, because finally she had been in complete control of her life. Whatever happened to her had happened as a result of her own decisions. And if she survived the day, it was because of her own hard work. No matter how difficult things became, she was always comforted by knowledge that she was responsible for her own destiny. In her mind it was far better to live in poverty on a path you had chosen, than to live a comfortable life as a slave to others, as she had under her parent's rule.

As time went by she had carved out a new life for herself. Several months after running away she had stumbled across an abandoned cabin in the mountains and, little by little, had turned it into a home for herself. It was ideal – close enough to town for her to sell the spoils of her hunt and stock up on supplies when needed, but remote enough so that no-one would ever disturb her. There were plenty of creatures to hunt and plenty of trees to provide building materials and firewood. Finally, Marina had found a place to call home. An existence in which she could be free and content.

Yet if she hadn't made her escape, she would still be living under her parent's roof today, enduring Mama's cruel criticism and Papa's eternal contempt. Existing only to follow the illogical rules which they had laid down. Not a free wolf, merely a dog on a tight, unbreakable leash.

With an angry flick of her wrist, she cast the pebbles aside. In their place she picked up a large rock, the size of a skull. With a grunt of effort, she hurled it one-handed into the water, where it broke the surface with a hollow plop and splatter. As she watched it sink, she came to a decision.

She had fought so hard to win her freedom. She was damned if she was going to give it up for an unwanted baby.

**A/N – Merry Christmas and best wishes for 2011!**


End file.
